You see, the Aga Khan is putting in an Islamic history centre, with a special nod to Ismailis, in the community of Leaside, a woody central-eastern patch of the city running along the Don Valley.

The Aga Khan. Not Aga Khan. The Aga Khan. With a title like that, I don’t see how one could resist going to see what this man will install in our city. Apparently it’s supposed to be the first of it’s kind anywhere around these parts, and it has been described as a “gem”. All out of the Aga Khan’s love for Canada.

I tend to walk until I come to a major intersection and then stop to look at Google Maps on my mobile phone to figure out my next turn. I guessed I must’ve misjudged the majorness of a few intersections because I soon wound up in a neighbourhood adjacent to the Science Centre. Having gotten there, on foot, from Yonge-Dundas Square, I was starting to feel a tad worn out. Plus I had the return trip to think about.

So I decided to call it a day, vowing to return. But it wasn’t a total loss. The highlight of that part of town is definitely the awesome vista from the Don Mills Road bridge over the DVP:

Unfortunately I missed this gentleman’s name and some of his earlier comments, but this is ultimately what it boils down to, in a nutshell, the crux and the nexus, as it were:

The police are always giving the same message, if you break the law, be prepared to be prosecuted for it. There’s no excuse for something like this [recent G20-related vandalism]. People can… the legal right to protest is there in Canada, the freedom of speech is there, you can say what you want, you can march, you can do those things, but as soon as you cross that line, police are going to have to deal with you.

There you have it, terse and policey. At this point the details of the police plan, and that line being alluded to, are probably already out there although no one really has much info otherwise. Hopefully this doesn’t come as a big surprise to anyone.

In the past few days anyone stepping off a plane for the first time at Pearson or City Centre Airport probably got a bit of a rude awakening to the real Toronto.

I do my best to try to warn people that, no really, it gets pretty fucking hot here in the summers, but usually I just get an incredulous expression in response. When I compare recent Toronto temperatures (31 Celcius / 88 Fahrenheit) to, say, The Bahamas (30 Celcius / 86 Fahrenheit), they just kind of look at me funny, like maybe I’ve been spending too much time in the igloo or something.

It’s a bit warm for May, granted, but not by much.

“Yeah, but it’s not a humid heat like they get on the islands”, is often the next follow-up. Once again, spoken by someone who hasn’t been to Toronto in the summer. No, it really is. It can get as soupy here as it does in Hong Kong or Jamaica. I mean, did you ever wonder how south Asians, East Indians, West Indians, and people from similar countries could manage to live in Toronto if it’s some dreary northern podunk town? That’s because it’s not so foreign to them. In the winter they’re usually a miserable bunch, but in the summer they’re right at home. Right from the horse’s mouth that.

I’m usually not a sucker for fireworks anyway, but when I went to see them last year at Ashbirdge’s Bay I accidentally stumbled on a spot that literally knocked my lid off. I mean, I’m sure they look great from the beach; the reason I know is because I heard the mighty cheers that arose from there with every new volley of thunder. I do not exaggerate when I say it sounded like a rock concert or a horde of vikings, and I was sitting entirely elsewhere.